by Joan Wolf
Rahab wanted to scream at him that his father didn’t matter, that the only thing that mattered was their love. How can he be so blind? So stupid?
He said, “There is something more I must tell you.”
“I don’t think I want to hear anything more from you, Sala.”
“You have to hear this.” He took a step away from her, distancing himself. “My father and I are not here as merchants. We are here to gather information for Joshua, the leader of the Israelites. The battle for Jericho will begin as soon as the spring flood in the Jordan subsides, and our job is to learn everything we can about the defensive weaknesses of the city.”
Rahab stared at him in horror. “You are spies? You are here to betray Jericho into the hands of the Israelites?”
“No.” His voice was quiet, steady. “You can only betray what you have sworn allegiance to. I have never sworn allegiance to this place, or to any of the false gods who supposedly protect it. My allegiance is to the God of Israel, and He has told us that this land is ours. This is our ancestral home, and I believe with all my heart that we are destined to regain it for ourselves and for Elohim. If you believe in Elohim, Rahab, as you say you do, then you must be for the Israelites and against the false worshippers in Jericho.”
She had never seen Sala like this. His voice was calm but his eyes burned with dedication.
“You are either with us or against us, Rahab,” he said. “And I know you are not against us. Elohim has chosen you. You belong to Him now.”
Rahab felt as if she were being torn in two. “What do you want me to do?” she asked in confusion.
“It is as I said before. You must wait and listen.”
“Is there really going to be a battle?”
“Yes.”
“Will we all die?”
“Not you! I have been afraid for you since first I knew you were in the city, but now . . . now I think we are all in Elohim’s hands. We must do what we are called to do.”
If Sala is right, and I am called to do something important for Elohim, then Lord Nahshon won’t be able to object to our marriage.
Rahab knew then and there that she was not going to let Sala go without a fight.
She said, “The Israelites will win this battle, Sala. Baal and Asherah are nothing but lies. It is Elohim who is truly God.”
He looked at her with such longing in his eyes that she reached up, slid her arms around his neck, and raised her face.
He bent from his greater height and kissed her gently, a kiss of farewell. Then he kissed her again, this time not gently at all.
Atene’s voice interrupted them. “Rahab, Mother is coming up the stairs. Sala, you just have enough time to jump back to the other roof.”
Sala put her away from him, his hands hard on her shoulders. He said, “I love you. Whatever happens, I will always love you.”
“I love you too.”
He turned, and with a running start, jumped back to the other roof.
PART THREE
The Walls of Jericho
Twenty-Four
THE VILLAGE OF SHITTIM, WHERE THE ISRAELITES WERE camped, lay some ten miles east of the Jordan, almost directly opposite Jericho on the western side of the river. This meant that in order to reach Jericho, Joshua, the Israelite commander, was going to have to move his army, their families, and their provisions across the river. His problem was that the usually tranquil, meandering Jordan was a raging torrent in the spring, fed as it was by melting snow from the northern mountains. But spring was the time of year when the Israelites had made their escape from Egypt, and Joshua was determined to attack Jericho soon after his people had celebrated their feast of Passover, which commemorated that miraculous feat.
When Isaac and Gideon, the two men Joshua had sent to once more check the level of the river, returned to camp, they found their leader standing alone, his eyes turned westward, toward Jericho. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was hanging low above the horizon, silhouetting Joshua’s figure against the red sky. The scouts hesitated, wondering if they should disturb his solitude. His lined face was set like stone and he was so still that Isaac thought he almost looked like a pagan statue. Finally Gideon took a few steps forward and murmured his leader’s name. Joshua turned to greet them and ask for their report.
“The river is still in full spate,” Isaac said. “We might get the army across, but not the women, children, and animals.”
As one, the three men turned to regard the camp spread out before them. They had been at Shittim for some time, and the women had made things comfortable. Tents covered the flat landscape and the smells of cooking wafted their way on the breeze. There were no men in sight; Joshua had sent them off under their commanders to practice with arms and to build up their strength for the coming fight. The Israelite army had never yet lost a battle, and their reputation as a fierce and ruthless fighting force had been honestly earned.
Joshua, who was not a big man, commanded with his powerful personality and burning dark eyes. He said now to the two men, “Do not doubt. If we are strong and courageous and act always in accordance with the laws Moses gave to us, we shall take possession of the land Yahweh has promised to our people. Now listen closely, for this is what I want you to do. Tomorrow you will cross the Jordan and enter into the city of Jericho. We already have two men in place within the city, and they will be looking for you. They have spied out the strengths and weaknesses of the city, and you are to receive this information from them and return to me. Do you understand?”
The two men bowed their heads in acknowledgement. Gideon said, “All that you have commanded us we will do, and wherever you send us we will go. Just as we obeyed Moses in all things, so we will obey you.”
Briefly, Joshua laid a hand on Gideon’s sleeve. Then he said, “The man you are looking for is called Nahshon and he is in disguise as a Canaanite trader from Gaza. He is lodging in Jericho with his son, Sala. Every morning you may find them at a wine shop on the main road just before the walls that lead into the Upper City. It has a sign outside displaying an olive tree. When you go there you must wear a scarlet cord on your belt. That is how they will know you. Once you receive their information, bring it back to me.”
Gideon and Isaac traded a look at this mention of spies already in place. This was the first they had heard of such a thing. Gideon said, “We will follow your instructions, Joshua. But what if we can’t find this wine shop? Are you sure it exists?”
“Nahshon knew about it from a friend of his who had been inside the city. Yahweh will guide you, Gideon. You will find this place.”
Both men nodded solemnly. Ever since the God they had called Elohim, Creator, had revealed His true name to Moses, the Israelites had no longer used the name Elohim. They said Yahweh, a word that in Hebrew meant I AM. Yahweh had told Moses that He was: The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. This is My name forever and this is My title for all generations. Ever since that revelation to Moses, the Israelites had called their God Yahweh.
Joshua said to Gideon and Isaac, “If it is possible, bring Nahshon and his son back with you; it will not be safe for them inside the city. When we take Jericho, we will leave nothing standing that breathes within. We do the will of Yahweh, who wants His people to have this precious land. For this He took us out of Egypt, and for this must we continue to strive.”
“May Yahweh be with you, Joshua,” the men responded. “We will do as you have asked.”
The following day, just as the sun was rising, Isaac and Gideon left Shittim to ford the flooding river Jordan and begin the trek to Jericho.
In the days after the New Year festival, more and more people from the surrounding countryside began to pour into the city. The Lower City, where most of the refugees were living, was full to bursting, but the wealthy merchants and nobles in the Upper City had refused to open their courtyards to the farmhands and shepherds who made up most of the new population. King Tam
ur realized that some solution to the overcrowding had to be found, and this was one of the reasons he had called the meeting of his council.
The other reason was connected to the first but was potentially even more dangerous. The refugees were full of horror stories about the Israelites and the death and destruction they had sown through all the southern kingdoms. Even behind the huge walls of Jericho their stories were igniting fear among the residents. The unthinkable question was being asked: was it possible that these warlike Israelites might batter down the thickest and highest walls of any city in the land?
The king and the council, which was made up of a mixture of his followers and his father’s old advisors, were confident the walls could not be breached.
“Jericho can hold out under a year-long siege if we have to,” Tamur said as the group met in the king’s apartment. “That is not our immediate problem. The immediate problem is the doubts that are going round the city because of these new people. However, first I wish to discuss the housing problem.”
The older men, the ones who owned the big houses in the Upper City, looked at each other then back to the king, wary expressions on their faces.
Tamur went on, “I am going to command that tents be set up in every park and open space in the Upper City.” He flicked a glance at one of the lords, who had moved his hand in seeming protest. “I do not want to hear any complaints from the nobles about their space being commandeered. We cannot turn these people away, so we must have a place for them to shelter. The city has plenty of water and plenty of grain. We have soldiers to man the walls if the enemy should be foolish enough to rush us. Nor can the Israelites hope to win if they lay siege. Their provisions will give out before ours do.”
Hearty agreement sounded from the men of the council.
“Good,” said Tamur. “Now, to this other issue. I have been told that fear is spreading around the city like wildfire. Is this the case?”
Silence fell, then Farut, the youngest, spoke up. “I think it is a serious problem, my lord. Frightened people do dangerous things.”
Lord Arazu said, “I have another concern. Suppose this talk is being spread deliberately?”
Tamur nodded, as if he had already had the same idea.
The high priest asked, “Do you mean the Israelites might have agents in the city whose job it is to spread unrest?”
“That could easily be so,” said the military commander, Akiz. “With the numbers of people pouring into the city, it would not be hard for spies to hide among the crowds.”
Tamur nodded again.
Arazu said, “My lord, I think we should find out exactly who these people are who are spreading the frightening tales about the Israelites.”
Tamur spoke crisply, “I agree, Lord Arazu, and I have ordered some men from the guard to dress in ordinary clothes so they can mix with the populace. These rumors are coming from the Lower City, and your fear that spies might be among us is a thought I have had myself.”
“Of course it’s coming from the Lower City,” Lord Edri muttered. His rodent’s face was clenched with anger. “The riffraff are the only ones stupid enough to believe our walls can be breached.”
“We must watch the gate closely, my lord,” one of the younger men said. “Spies might already be here, but we do not want any more coming in.”
Akiz said, “That is being taken care of.”
“Very well, then,” the king said, standing up. “We will begin setting up the tents right away. And I do not want to hear any complaints from the nobility about ‘riffraff’ in the Upper City. I will leave you your houses, but the parks will have tents in them.”
Lord Arazu bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.”
The council broke up, leaving the new young king satisfied that he had the city under control.
Twenty-Five
LORD NAHSHON HAD POUNCED ON SALA WHEN HE returned to the inn after his visit with Rahab.
“Come upstairs,” he said, then closed his hand around his son’s arm as if he was taking no chances of Sala running away again. Once they were in their small room, Lord Nahshon dropped Sala’s arm and the two men faced each other.
“So, did you manage to see her?” Nahshon demanded. He was doing his best to control his anger.
“Yes, Father, I did see her and she told me exactly what happened on the night of the festival. It’s a bit different from the official story being circulated around the city.”
As Sala began to recount the events of Rahab’s interrupted sacred marriage, Nahshon listened with only part of his mind. The other part was focused on his son and not on his words.
Sala had changed since they came to Jericho. Lord Nahshon had noticed changes before, but now they struck him forcefully. His son was no longer a boy. He didn’t even look like a boy anymore. His face had thinned and the fine bone structure was more evident than it had been in the fullness of the younger face. Sala had never had an awkward moment, even as a youngster, but that childish grace had turned into lithe male strength. Above all, the change was in his eyes. He looked upon his father with respect, but the adoration was gone. Sala was his own man now. Part of Nahshon felt proud that his son had grown into a man he could admire, but part of him grieved for the boy that was gone.
“Rahab prayed to Elohim,” Sala was saying, and Nahshon’s full attention abruptly focused on his son’s words.
“What do you mean, she prayed to Elohim?”
“I mean that she turned away from her false gods and called to Elohim to help her. And Elohim heard her, Father. Just think: the king dropped dead right there in the bed, before he could do her any harm! Is that not a sign that Rahab has found favor in Elohim’s eyes?”
Nahshon turned away from this suddenly mature Sala and went to stand at the tiny window that had been cut through the wall to provide some air to the room. He was quiet for a long time, thinking about what Sala had said. He knew his son was infatuated with this Canaanite girl, and it disgusted him. Nahshon had begun to think of Rahab as the enemy, someone he had to fight for the soul of his son.
He turned and said, “How did a pagan girl like Rahab come to know of Elohim?”
“I told her about Him. Even when we were small and she was staying with us in Ramac, she was curious about my beliefs. Rahab is not like other women, Father. She is interested in things beyond housework. She is smart. And she is brave too. You saw that for yourself. How many other girls would have been able to get away from those slavers?”
“She is beautiful,” Lord Nahshon said coldly. “A woman who looks like that can make a man believe almost anything.”
Sala’s eyes flashed. “She was not lying to me. She prayed to Elohim and the king died before he could harm her! How much proof do you need, Father, that she is special to Elohim?”
“How do you know he didn’t harm her? You have only her word.”
Sala’s cheeks flushed red with anger. “The priestess at the shrine examined her. If the act had been consummated, then the prince would not have had to make a second sacred marriage. It would have already been accomplished. But Rahab is pure. You have only to look into her eyes to know that!”
Lord Nahshon did not want to alienate Sala, so he tried for a mild voice. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps Elohim does have a use for this girl.”
Sala’s look was intense. “I’m certain of it, Father. Elohim has some plan that is as yet unclear to us. But it will unveil itself in time, and we must be ready.”
Nahshon began to pace around the tiny space. The less said about Rahab the better, he thought. He changed the subject. “I am expecting to hear from Joshua at any time now. People are still pouring in to the city, which makes a perfect opportunity for spies to slip in unnoticed. We should start spending the whole day at the wine bar, not just the mornings. We must be there when they come looking for us. If two men who do not speak Canaanite are caught, the king will immediately assume they are Israelite spies and execute them. We cannot allow that to happen.”
&n
bsp; “Language is going to be a problem,” Sala said. “We can’t speak to them in the wine bar if we’re going to be speaking Hebrew—we’ll have to bring them here.”
Lord Nahshon was happy his son’s mind seemed to have swung away from that girl. “Yes, I suppose we will. There are so many people crammed into the inn right now that they won’t even be noticed.”
Sala’s brows drew together. “The biggest problem is how to get them out of the city once they are in. There may still be many people coming in, but few are going out.”
“There is still some traffic going out, though. Men are leaving to bring in more provisions from their farms while they can. They will just have to be careful.”
They both were quiet, thinking about this. Then Sala said, “Joshua needs to act soon. If he waits too long, the scouts will have trouble. Tamur is more astute than his father. He will be on the lookout for spies.”
“True.”
“Father, if they don’t come, then I think I should try to get out of the city myself and go to the Israelite camp. Joshua needs to know that the north wall is the place to attack. It’s definitely the most vulnerable spot in the city.”
Lord Nahshon’s heart stopped at the thought of risking his only son. “Don’t be a fool, Sala. You have no experience traveling under cover. You don’t even know exactly where the Israelite camp is! We will do as we arranged and wait for Joshua’s men.”
Sala didn’t reply, but Nahshon didn’t like the stubborn look in his son’s eyes. He had been willing to let Sala come to Jericho with him because he burned to be part of the Israelite conquest, and he had also thought the mission would be safe. His son was everything to him—the whole future of the family lay in Sala’s hands. Nothing must happen to him.
“They will come,” Nahshon repeated firmly. “Joshua is being led to Jericho by Elohim, just as Moses was led through the desert. We must be patient and keep watch.”